Ye Shall Find
by psychochick1
Summary: Castiel finally found God. Playing Skeeball.


It took Castiel ten long months of desperate searching, trailing vague leads from one end of the cosmos to the other, scouring every corner of the Earth, enduring the scorn and disbelief and doubt of other angels, before the amulet burned hot in his hand.

Cautiously stepping through the entryway, Castiel winced slightly at the cacophony of beeps, dings, chimes, and buzzers, highlighted by the glaring tubes of neon. For this New Jersey boardwalk, midday in late fall meant that the place was nearly deserted, save for one bored man at the cashier's counter and an older guy enthusiastically playing skeeball. Eying the cashier, Castiel stretched out, searching for any demons in the area.

The old man chuckled as he skipped the ball solidly into the 50 point hole. "It's okay. Haven't seen any roller hockey hooligans around here in years."

Castiel blinked in confusion, coming up beside the old man. "Father," he greeted softly. "I am . . . glad to see you alive."

The old man laughed. "Yes, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. It was all Nietcheze's fault that rumor even started. But I got the last laugh, now didn't I?" He looked over at Castiel with a smile. "You're looking much better from the last time I saw you."

"The last time you saw me, I had just been splattered all over a prophet's house by an archangel."

The old man huffed a little laugh, choosing his next ball to throw. "Very true. I thought about stepping in, saving Chuck the mess, but you rather needed it." Castiel frowned, puzzled. "Now you know what Pamela felt when you burned her eyes out."

"But she commanded me to show her my face," the angel protested. "I could not refuse the command."

"You could have showed her your backside instead. No less traumatizing, perhaps, but less permanently scarring." The old man threw him a sly sideways glance, then shook his head at Castiel's baffled expression. "Ah, young one, here I'd thought your sense of humor had been improving through exposure to Dean Winchester." He skipped another ball in, the machine dinging as the points racked up. "How did you find me, anyway?"

Castiel opened his hand, showing the little metal amulet glowing fiercely as a hellfire ember. The old man made a face.

"Michael's little lo-jack. Honestly, I take one vacation and he freaks out. The Dark Ages were _not_ my fault." He pointed a finger at Castiel for emphasis. "That's the problem with free will. Things changed, people went a little crazy, and next thing you know, someone got it in their heads to start the Spanish Inquisition! Who expected that?"

He shook his head in disgust. "And then Michael had the nerve to make it in the form of a golden calf, to remind me of what happened the last time, when the Hebrews thought I'd wandered off. Sometimes I wonder if he's the one with the abandonment issues. Cheeky little bastard."

Wordlessly Castiel handed him another ball, which he took and expertly threw into the center hole. Instantly the machine went off, flashing lights and sirens and woops and tweets proclaiming WINNER. The old man smiled, and the machine silenced and reset, balls clacking into the chute.

"Father, about Michael," Castiel said hesitantly. "Is Dean really his chosen vessel?"

"Yes." The old man picked up a ball and weighed it in his hand. Castiel opened his mouth, but his father cut him off before he could protest. "You needn't worry about that."

"But Father . . ."

"Michael is a little too sure of himself," he cut the angel off. "He still regards humanity as a bunch of unruly children, because he doesn't understand the free will I gave them. He can't see the bigger picture. He thinks he knows how everything must turn out, that it's all a foregone conclusion, but ignores the individual choices involved. That's why he's so certain Dean will say yes to him." He switched the ball to his other hand and slid it easily into the 50 ring.

"Notice that Michael only approached Dean when provoked, when Uriel and Anna threatened to kill him, even though the other angels regularly threaten to drag Dean before him." He adjusted his stance and threw sidearm, like skipping a stone on water. The ball bounced once and thunked solidly in the center ring.

"Yet Sam has been tempted many times by Lucifer," Castiel mused.

"Dean is only of interest to Michael if Sam gives in to Lucifer. Symmetry and all that. But as long as Sam has Dean, he will never say yes. They will both keep defying anyone who tries to separate them, and spit on their so-called destiny." The old man grinned to himself, clearly pleased.

Before Castiel could do more than blink at that, the old man nodded to the lane next to him. The machine immediately flashed and balls clattered down the chute. "Want a game? It's rather fun."

Castiel nearly sighed. "Father, there is little time. Things are --," but the old man interrupted him.

"I know. Lucifer has been released, and is currently raising hell in multitudinous ways. Demons are rallying around him, and he's already drawn a score of angels to join him." Each point was emphasized with a thrown ball. "Three of the Four Horsemen have been let loose. People and angels are dying in droves. The Winchesters are still angsting over starting the Apocalypse while being chased by both demons and angels. Oh, and you're being hunted by rogue angels with delusions of grandeur who think Revelation is a How-To guide."

One more throw, and the machine dinged out HIGH SCORE WINNER.

Finally he turned and looked at Castiel straight in the face, causing the angel to flinch and bow his head. "Fear not, young one. You have stayed true, and everything will be fine. It is not the End of Days just yet." He clapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Come now. I think Dean will be wanting his necklace back."


End file.
